Aw crap.

Now I have Willie Nelson in my head.

Getoutgetoutgetout!

Sheesh.

Last week I jetted off to the bustling metropolis of Edmonton. Well, it was bustling in the West Edmonton Mall at least, where I left many monies in exchange for family gifts and a few trinkets for moi. Oh yeah, and I had a business meeting the next day too... but that was a mere afterthought. I was really there to visit the mall for the first time (but don't tell my boss that).

Only two days after returning home I was packing my bags once more. For daughter and I are here in Fargo, on a very short shopping trip before the snow flies. This will definitely need to satisfy her craving for Hollister and Abercrombie until the Spring thaw.

Even though she COULD have come here alone (she drove us in her new car), I now realize why she dragged me along:

It must be wonderful to have your very own personal pack mule.

HeeHaw HeeHaw!

It's true!

Oh no, nothing as grand as being able to produce a Patronus Charm with a wave of my wand* or summon Balrog-repelling powers like Gandalf.** Hell, I can't even dodge laser bolts from a Seeker Droid training remote.***

But apparently I CAN see and/or do amazing things others can't.

Get this:

At ALL times, I can somehow sense whether the dishwasher has clean OR dirty dishes in it! Yup, the rest of the family seek me out when faced with the confounding dilemma of determining whether to place their used plate, cup or spoon inside. And if I am not within yelling distance or fail to respond to their desperate cries of assistance, said grimy vessels are simply placed on the counter; so as not to accidentally infect clean ones that may dwell within the secret chamber below.

I have the incredible power to turn scummy bathrooms into bright gleaming spaces with the swipe of my almighty Fist of Power (with the assistance of my faithful sidekick, Mr. Clean). Terror striken citizens of the household are saved yet again from grips of mold and mildew.

I have the ability to transform the kingdom into scenes of seasonal beauty. If it weren't for me, pumpkins wouldn't be carved, trees wouldn't be decorated and eggs wouldn't be hidden.

My most fierce magcial skill is my communion with beasts... being the bearer of food, water and comfort they loyally follow me about on my journeys throughout our kingdom. But this obviously also comes with great responsibility... for I and I alone, have The Vision. For I am the only being endowed with the gift to see and clean up all thier messes.

Yes, I am magical alright. Either that, or simply a wife and mother in a sarcastic mood for Monday morning.

What magical properties do you possess? We can start a League.


* Harry Potter fans will understand
** Lord of the Rings fans will understand
*** Star Wars fans will understand
(and those Geeks of us who don't have a real life, will, sadly, understand it all and nod in nerdy agreement)

Hero made with HeroMachine at Ugo.com

Crap! I couldn't believe it. How could I be so careless?

Must be getting old... to have forgotten something so important.

So personal.

So essential!

I should have headed back home when I discovered my omission; instead I kept driving to work -- reassuring myself I could get through the day without anyone noticing.

Maybe if I hide in my office, I can make it through the day unscathed.

But I had to go out sometime. Away from the privacy and protection of my room.

Luckily, I wasn't called upon for much. I made it and no one even realized. Except me.

I felt naked all day.

I never want to endure something like that again... I learned my lesson alright. Must be more diligent.

That's the last time I'll forget my Blackberry at home.

Oh crap.

A whole week has passed like a blur... and I have been Missing In Action online. Not only was it our Thanksgiving long weekend but I also took a vacation day Friday. And it was NO vacation, let me tell you, for I foolishly undertook the huge task of finally redecorating my craft / scrapbook / daughter's former bedroom all weekend. (It's obvious I haven't quite decided exactly what the heck to call it yet). Sponged purple walls and green shelving may be fine for a tween, but since daughter has grown up and moved downstairs to larger quarters, it just wouldn't do for my newly-squatted "creative space".

Since last Tuesday's all-night-coffee-induced-planning-session, I have been painting, buying supplies and accessories, moving crap out, moving crap back and re-organizing until last night to produce this:




Over the course of this experience, I must admit I learned a few things:

1) I learned where the hell all those rolls of scotch tape disappeared to over the years. I found it tacked up in a kajillion pieces all over daughter's walls; previously adorned with posters, pictures and numerous strings of tiny Christmas lights. Every-square-inch-where. And because of the mottled purple walls, I didn't find some pieces until I painted over them. Swearing ensued whilst scraping away strips of now soggy beigy-coloured tape.

2) I learned to don gloves when painting anything black. And I painted nearly everything that didn't move black this weekend. Desk organizers, wire magazine racks, carts, shelves... and before coming up with the bright idea of using gloves, my hands.

3) I learned it doesn't matter if there is wet paint completely surrounding them; cats will somehow discover that one square inch of unpainted surface to hop up on.


4) I learned not to face away from the door when precariously perched on a ladder delicately painting black trim on beigy walls. Obviously it is a far too tempting target for a male to pass without attempting to tickle your ribs. He nearly got a black paintbrush in the face for that one. Hubby learned not to even think of doing that again.

5) I learned that my dog will repeatedly locate the perfect place to curl up into a ball to sleep -- exactly in the spot I needed to walk by, paint or move furniture to.

6) I learned that painting is a great cardio workout. Especially when dipping a brush or roller in the tray on the table across the room, carrying it up the ladder to paint a section on the wall, descending the ladder, trduging across the room to load it up again, returning back across the room, etc, etc, etc. Repeat ad nauseum all weekend.

Until I learned those little hooks on the bottom of the paint tray actually clip the thing ONTO the ladder.

I stumbled upon that little tidbit of knowledge while finishing the LAST WALL.

Yes I am that stupid.

But I AM learning.

I awake suddenly and to answer the first question that instantly comes to mind, glance at the clock on my nightstand.

2:25 am. Crap.

I stare at the ceiling as hubby snores loudly beside me.

My mind begins to wander... decorating ideas bombard me for the upcoming long weekend room renovation project.

Paint colours. Accessories. Window treatments. Repurposing. The exact order to move everything. Solutions to problems were being solved in rapid succession.

I take a look at the clock once more.

3:14 am. Crap again.

Tawnee snuggles in closer at my feet, laying her head on my leg. I try not to disturb her.

Mental notes are taken, to-do lists drafted and everything seems perfectly planned.

Now if I could only get back to sleep.

4:27 am. Crapity Crap Crap!

Serves me right for downing that venti no whip, non-fat, peppermint mocha with a triple shot of espresso at 10 pm last night.



But it was delish and now my weekend is planned out.

So it's a win-win. If you don't count the bags under my eyes, that is.

The three words that my sister began our telephone conversation with the other day. And I immediately knew exactly to what she was referring.

Yes, she reads my blog (Hi Sis!) and was wondering how the hell I acquired Mr. Depp's autograph - like some of you, by the results of my recent poll. I must say though, I am sorely disappointed; not one of you chose "that night of passion". Do you know how hard it was NOT to vote myself?? Crap.

Ah well, thank you for all your comments; here are just a few that had me in stitches in response to my question "What was Johnny Depp thanking Maureen for?":

Like The Green Stone Woman who asked "But when he thanks you for everything, what does that include?"

I shall never tell. Nor shall he. Probably not for the same reasons, sadly.

Or Tony from Trottersville who guessed: "For services rendered."

Acck! Now that sounds, erm, slightly illegal.

ReformingGeek with "You rescued him from the other Maureen, the crazy stalker that was trying to kill him."

Ha! How the hell did you know??? It was really YOU, wasn't it?

Babs-beetle obviously takes me for some kind of wretched thief with her explanation: "I know! You stole it from the person who really did spend a night in Paris with him ;)"

Well, it serves that crazed Frenchwoman right...

Poor Melinda. Under the silly delusion that I am EVER letting go of it: "Actually he's thanking you for agreeing to send the autographed picture to me after you're finished teasing your blog readers with it. :) And please remove all fingerprints & lipstick stains from it before sending it."

Ah it's such a shame she didn't leave a link. Now I shall be forced to keep it for myself. Too bad Melinda... too bad.

Kevin from The Tree Of Woe had me LOL'ing with "He thanked you for that one thing that one time. You know. That one thing."

Yeah. That thing. With the stuff. You know; the thing with that stuff.

Sistertex from Spacial Peepol was very close with: "I didn't see a choice for best Johnny Depp look alike in the pumpkin catagory."

Ah, he has indeed provided some memorable characters suitable for pumpkin-izing.

Jay from The Depp Effect, who, as one might imagine, HAS met Mr. Depp knows him all too well..."I'm guessing the darling man thanked you for being a fan and 'bothering' to write in."

Ding! Ding! Ding! We have a winner.

So how the hell did I acquire my prized possession?????

I simply

asked him for it.

Yep, I finally screwed up enough courage to write him a letter and included pictures of my Jack Sparrow artwork and pumpkin. Incredibly, it only took a few short weeks to get a response. Like Jay said, the man is "a real sweetheart, and humble enough that he does just that. *Sigh* "

Agreed Jay, *Sigh* indeed.

So remember. It never hurts to just ASK.

Just don't wait three years like this uber-timid wimp did.



Congrats to Babs for winning a "I'd Rather Be Blogging" magnet!

I hope you treasure it for many, many minutes to come as it graces your fridge or any other metal surface you may wish to deface.